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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25632442">Love and Other Annoyances</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Essie_Cat/pseuds/Essie_Cat'>Essie_Cat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Albus and Scorpius are 'Very Platonic' [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne &amp; Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Body Image, Chubby Albus, Established Relationship, Fluff, Good Parent Draco Malfoy, Insecurity, James Sirius Potter Being an Asshole, M/M, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Post-Hogwarts, Protective Scorpius, Sarcastic Albus, Weight Gain, Weight Issues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:28:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,988</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25632442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Essie_Cat/pseuds/Essie_Cat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus and Scorpius navigate the waters of mid-twenties existential angst, featuring excessive sarcasm, weight issues and gratuitous hair dye.</p>
<p>Also, they hang out with each other’s families, which is just about as terrifying as it sounds.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Albus and Scorpius are 'Very Platonic' [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858006</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>140</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Malfoys</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Albus has had a bloody long day. It’s been an endless string of infractions regarding floo powder possession and a highly illegal attempt to connect a Muggle hospital to the floo network. </p><p>After that shitshow, it cheers him up no end to step out of his fireplace and find Scorpius sprawled out on his couch.</p><p>‘I see you’ve made yourself at home,’ he tells his boyfriend, surveying the sheets of parchment and upturned books on wandlore that have consumed his living room. The smell of coffee hangs in the air, and Scorpius looks hyper but happy, so he concludes it’s been a successful day of writing.</p><p>‘Hello to you too,’ Scorpius tells him, dropping his book and scrambling into an upright position. He’s wearing blue-and-white striped boxers and a grey jumper that’s rather too big for him, and he looks faintly silly and very scruffy and far more attractive than anyone has the right to under the circumstances.  </p><p>He holds out his arms and makes flappy little hand movements in Albus’s direction. Albus raises an eyebrow at him. This is not the first time Scorpius has attempted to get him into his lap, and not the first time Albus has rejected the idea as absurd. He sits down on the much sturdier sofa and wrangles Scorpius onto his lap instead. Scorpius isn’t exactly petite – he’s six feet of lean muscle – but this way round still seems like the safer option to Albus.</p><p>Scorpius slips his arms around Albus’s neck. ‘You’re not too heavy, you know.’</p><p>Albus is not keen to test that theory, and Scorpius seems to be taking the matter as a personal affront to his legs. He doesn’t doubt that Scorpius is strong, and he has exceptionally nice legs, but they probably don’t need two-hundred-and-something pounds of Albus Potter sitting on them. </p><p>‘You’ve been raiding my wardrobe,’ he accuses, tugging at the hem of the grey jumper Scorpius is sporting. It sits well enough over his broad shoulders and chest, though it’s noticeably oversized over his middle. It’s a tad embarrassing, actually, as this jumper is definitely too small for Albus now and he’s been meaning to get rid of it. But Scorpius wasn’t to know that.</p><p>Scorpius grins. ‘I was cold.’</p><p>‘I wonder why.’ He runs a hand up Scorpius’s bare thigh, dusted with fine hairs, firm with muscle. </p><p>Scorpius gazes down at him, devilishly charming. He rocks his hips slightly in a way that is <em>highly</em> distracting.</p><p><em>Merlin.</em> Albus has barely been in the house five minutes.</p><p>‘Got a letter from my father today,’ Scorpius says. </p><p>‘Oh?’ Albus takes a firm hold of Scorpius’s hips to keep them still, because he really doesn’t want to risk his dick and Draco Malfoy occupying the same thought space.</p><p>‘He invited me over for dinner next week. He was very insistent that I should bring a date.’</p><p>‘Hm. Got anyone in mind?’</p><p>‘There are a few options. I’ll let you know when I’ve narrowed them down.’ He grins. ‘What do you think? Are you up for meeting my father?’</p><p>It’s been a few months since Albus and Scorpius bumped into each other at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, and – after some not-so-subtle interfering by their respective best friends – decided that dating each other might not be the worst idea. And it’s going pretty well so far, if Albus does say so himself. </p><p>But meeting each other’s families is a hurdle they haven’t really discussed until now. It’s going to be weird, however they approach it. There’s not really a way of getting around that. </p><p>‘You don’t have to,’ Scorpius adds quickly, a little worry creeping into his expression. </p><p>‘I’d like to,’ Albus assures him. </p><p>The momentary uncertainty vanishes and Scorpius looks bright and happy again. ‘He’s not too scary, I promise.’</p><p>Albus isn’t sure where the line is here, whether he’s allowed to joke about Scorpius’s family being full of former Death Eaters and that, yes, meeting them is a slightly alarming prospect. That’s something he’ll have to establish – and tiptoe around as required – by the time next week rolls around.</p><p>*</p><p>‘Be honest, how scared should I be?’ </p><p>After a long day at work, Albus is stress-snacking on strawberries in the flat Scorpius shares with Grace and Zabini. </p><p>Zabini is cross-legged on the floor, hand-painting a set of Gobstones with a look of utmost concentration on his face. He’s wearing a black jumper and shorts – a surprisingly muted look for him, although the jumper does have orange and pink stars around the neckline. His eyes are ringed with heavy liner and he looks like a cheerful goth on a low-key day. </p><p>Scorpius is otherwise occupied with Grace in the bathroom – they’ve both had one of those weeks where hair dye is the only answer – so now seems like a good time to pester his flatmate and best-friend-since-Hogwarts with questions about the former Death Eater who sired him.</p><p>‘You shouldn’t.’ Zabini waves his paintbrush in the air. ‘Scorpius’s dad seems stern and snooty and embarrassingly posh when you first meet him, but he’s a big softie really.’</p><p>Albus doubts that there are many people who would describe Draco Malfoy as a <em>big softie,</em> but Zabini seems unabashed. </p><p>‘He’s not going to do a whole judgemental-father routine and interrogate me to find out why I’m not good enough for his son?’</p><p>Zabini doesn’t dignify the question with an answer, narrowing his eyes as he adds gold flecks to the Gobstone he’s painting. </p><p>‘I feel like he’ll set tests, you know? Things I don’t realise are tests until I’ve already failed them. Conversational traps, that sort of thing. Maybe some literal traps. Does he hunt? He probably hunts. Maybe –’</p><p>‘Potter,’ Zabini interrupts, brandishing the paintbrush in his direction, ‘don’t overthink it. Draco is a perfectly normal human being. And he thinks Scorpius is the best thing since sliced bread, so you’ll already have lots in common.’</p><p>Albus is about to defend himself with something suitably withering, but then the creaking of the bathroom door reaches their ears. Albus and Zabini exchange nervous looks.</p><p>Zabini sets down his paintbrush, looking slightly fearful. ‘We have to be nice,’ he hisses, probably as much to himself as to Albus. ‘Even if it looks terrible.’</p><p>‘Especially if it looks terrible,’ Albus agrees.</p><p>Scorpius and Grace emerge from the bathroom. Grace’s shoulder-length dark hair is a striking violet at the tips. Scorpius’s hair is a deep ocean blue. </p><p>‘Looks great!’ Zabini says with obvious relief, leaping over to his girlfriend to admire her handiwork more closely. ‘I knew it would. Never doubted it. Albus was the one saying what a terrible idea it was...’</p><p>Scorpius raises his still-blond eyebrows indignantly. Albus splutters in protest.</p><p>*</p><p>As the day of the dinner draws closer, Albus’s brain does what it does best and cheerfully presents him with something else to worry about.</p><p>Here is a relevant fact: Draco Malfoy knew Albus’s dad at school. Every witch and wizard in Britain is aware of that. So Draco knows that his son is dating Harry Potter’s son, and he probably has a variety of feelings about that, but there’s one thing in particular that sends Albus’s insecurities into overdrive.</p><p>Draco probably expects him to look like Harry.</p><p>Albus does look like his dad in some ways. The messy black hair, the green eyes, the substandard vision that requires him to wear glasses. But it’s been a good ten years since someone commented on his resemblance to his father, because Harry is perennially lean and wiry, and Albus is decidedly – well, <em>not.</em>  </p><p>So if Draco expects his son to stroll down the drive with Harry Potter 2.0 on his arm, he’s going to be in for a surprise.</p><p>The night before they’re due at Malfoy Manor for dinner finds the pair of them in Albus’s bed in – well, in a certain state of dishabille. Scorpius’s hand is running along the curve of Albus's stomach, which is where his touch normally gravitates after sex. It’s a bit weird – maybe? – but Scorpius seems to enjoy it, and fuck, it feels good, which is weird too – definitely? – so Albus isn’t going to complain. He’s got used to the attention, to be honest. Maybe looks forward to it a bit. Even if it draws his attention to how much his stomach rises up these days, even when he’s lying on his back, how distinctly not-flat it is compared to Scorpius’s.</p><p>So this should be a nice moment, with them both lazy and sated and affectionate, except it also gets Albus’s brain whirring, and he finds himself blurting out, ‘Does your dad know?’ </p><p>Scorpius looks alarmed and quickly retracts his hand. </p><p>‘Know what? That we’re fucking? I mean. Yes. I assume he does. I haven’t made a point of discussing it with him. I don’t imagine it’ll come up in conversation tomorrow. Please don’t bring it up in conversation tomorrow.’</p><p>‘Does he know what I look like?’</p><p>Scorpius blinks at him. ‘Um. I don’t know? I haven’t sent him a photo album, or anything. Does it matter?’</p><p>Albus isn’t sure if Scorpius is being intentionally dense – which he is, sometimes, about this sort of thing, in a way that is both fairly endearing and deeply frustrating – or if he genuinely doesn’t know what Albus is getting at.</p><p>‘Does your dad know that I’m fat?’</p><p>Scorpius runs a hand through his blue hair, leaving it attractively mussed. ‘Al…’</p><p>‘That’s a no, then.’</p><p>Albus leans down to grab his t-shirt from the floor and pulls it over his head. Scorpius watches him with an inscrutable expression. </p><p>To his credit, Scorpius never tries to pretend that Albus isn’t fat. Not that he’s ever made Albus feel bad about it. If anything, he somehow manages to make it sound like a compliment. But he acknowledges that it’s a fact, which it is. </p><p>‘Should I have mentioned it? When we got together, I didn’t say <em>hey, Father, I’ve got a new boyfriend, his name’s Albus and this is his weight and his height and his shoe size.’</em></p><p>‘It would be good if he knew, that’s all.’</p><p>‘Would it? Why does it matter?’</p><p>Albus asks, ‘Has your father met anyone before? Any of the guys you’ve dated?’ </p><p>Scorpius sits up in bed and pulls the blankets around his waist, apparently resigned to having this conversation. ‘He met Felix. I dated him just after Hogwarts, when I still lived at home, so he was inevitably going to run into my father at some point. But that’s it. I’ve never really dated anyone else seriously enough to want to introduce them, to be honest.’</p><p>(Later, Albus will realise that Scorpius said something rather sweet there. But in the moment, he’s too wrapped up in his own panicky train of thought.)</p><p>‘Al, I’m a bit lost here,’ Scorpius says. ‘I don’t really know what we’re talking about.’</p><p>Albus knows that Scorpius has a type, and that type is guys who are a lot heavier than he is. Albus also knows he’s not even the heaviest guy Scorpius has ever been with, because that had seemed like <em>crucial</em> information to wheedle out of him, even though Scorpius had rolled his eyes and said it wasn’t relevant. </p><p>He always says that. He thinks Albus is overly fixated on this. But it all seems <em>highly</em> relevant to Albus.  </p><p><em>What did Felix look like?</em> he wants to ask. It would be just his luck if this Felix was the skinniest guy Scorpius had ever dated and Draco was therefore completely unaware of his son’s preferences. He doesn’t imagine it would come up in conversation otherwise – <em>lovely weather today, Father, and by the way, chubby guys really do it for me</em> – and it seems like a deeply pathetic thing for Albus to ask Scorpius about.</p><p>But he wants to find a way to ask. Wants to know what Draco’s going to think when he sees him, when he sees him and Scorpius together.</p><p>He knows that Scorpius knows he can get insecure about shit like this. But he doesn’t want to draw attention to it more often than is necessary. Doesn’t want Scorpius to feel like he needs constant reassurance. </p><p>And he’s okay with his weight, most of the time. But then sometimes a wave of insecurity will sneak up on him and suddenly it’s all <em>oh, you thought it was okay not to be ashamed of that? Well think again, mate.</em></p><p>In Albus’s continued silence, Scorpius says, ‘My father will really like you, you know. If you’re worried about tomorrow, you shouldn’t be.’  </p><p>Scorpius is giving him a soft look, and Albus does his best to return it. He knows this means a lot to Scorpius. There’s no reason for his panic protocol to take over and get in the way of that. </p><p>So he raises his eyebrows and says, ‘Of course he’ll like me. Who wouldn’t? I’m extremely likeable. Maybe <em>too</em> likeable. It’s a curse, really.’</p><p>The corners of Scorpius’s mouth twitch. ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’</p><p>*</p><p>‘Shortbread?’ Draco Malfoy waggles a plate under Albus’s nose. ‘I picked it up in Orkney. Exquisite stuff. How do you take your tea?’</p><p>‘Milk, no sugar, please, thanks,’ Albus says, overthinking every word as though he expects Draco to give him marks out of ten for his answer.</p><p>Scorpius beams at them both while Draco pours tea from a squat silver teapot, weirdly domestic, and Albus takes a bite of buttery shortbread, worrying about getting crumbs on the antique rug beneath his feet.</p><p>Malfoy Manor is pretty much what Albus expected. Grace and Zabini like to tease Scorpius about how odd his house is, and it certainly feels more like a museum than a regular house where regular people actually live, everything terribly grand and austere and beautifully maintained, almost like Hogwarts on a smaller – and somewhat creepier – scale. He’s never seen so many ornamental serpents in one place. </p><p>Draco, on the other hand, is almost a regular human being, which is very much not what Albus had been expecting. He’d shaken Albus’s hand when they first arrived and declared it was a pleasure to meet him, and then he’d thrown his arms around Scorpius in an actual honest-to-god <em>embrace.</em> He’d made earnest conversation with the house elf who brought in the tray of tea and biscuits. He’d expressed a preference for custard creams over chocolate bourbons. </p><p>‘Your house is really – impressive,’ Albus finds himself babbling, trying fervently to remember how human conversation works.</p><p>‘The land's been in the family since 1067,’ Draco says casually. ‘Scorpius can show you the portrait gallery in the east wing, and the peacocks in the garden. Visitors always seem to enjoy those.’</p><p>Albus knows his own upbringing was far from typical, but it’s downright weird that Scorpius grew up in a manor house with a portrait gallery and multiple wings and peacocks as pets. </p><p>‘I’m not taking you to the portraits because you’ll walk along picking out the ancestors who look most like me,’ Scorpius says seriously to Albus. ‘We are not playing that game.’</p><p>‘I don’t think any Malfoy in ten centuries has chosen to do <em>that</em> to themselves,’ Draco says, raising a pale eyebrow and indicating Scorpius’s hair.</p><p>As Scorpius and Draco bicker good-naturedly about Scorpius’s new hair colour, Albus sneaks a glance at the photographs around the room. Several of them feature a small, excitable Scorpius bounding around the frame. In one particularly adorable shot, he’s wearing red wellies and a yellow mackintosh, appears to have fallen in a puddle, and is clearly having the time of his life. Some show a younger Draco with rather more hair and less beard, and a pale, dark-haired woman who must be Scorpius’s mother.</p><p>Superficially, Scorpius looks startlingly like his father, both the younger Draco in the photographs and the current Draco sitting across the room. The elder Malfoy has a small, pointed beard and a receding hairline, but those grey eyes are identical, the shape of their faces, the obligatory white-blond hair. But Draco is all sharp angles in a way that makes him look severe, even when his lips curl into a smile. Scorpius is all sparkling eyes and bright grins and infectious, excitable energy.  </p><p>He looks brilliant today, wearing a new pair of robes that Albus hasn’t seen him in before, and – holy hell – Scorpius looks <em>so good</em> in robes. This is rather stating the obvious, as Scorpius looks indecently good in everything – and in nothing – but there’s something in particular about a nicely tailored pair of robes that really does it for Albus.</p><p>But even more than that, he looks so bright and happy, so pleased to be here. He’s beautifully encouraging of every moment of conversation Albus shares with his father, as if he can’t contain his excitement that they’re in the same room together. He shuffles steadily closer to Albus on the couch as the conversation goes on, his hand ending up in the small of Albus’s back, casual, reassuring, a little proprietary.</p><p> </p><p>Some time later, Draco excuses himself to check on dinner – which Albus interprets as, ‘checking on the house elf that’s making the dinner’, because if the image of Draco pouring tea was odd, the idea of him hard at work over a hot stove is even more bizarre.</p><p>The moment the door closes behind his father, Scorpius throws both arms around Albus and closes the non-existent gap between them still further. </p><p>‘Doing ok?’ he asks, grinning.</p><p>‘You tell me,’ Albus says.</p><p>‘Of course.’ Scorpius kisses him. ‘He loves you.’</p><p>‘And no one’s mentioned the war once,’ Albus says with considerable relief. ‘Let’s keep it that way.’</p><p>Scorpius beams. He looks so sweet and soft and happy, and it’s so nice seeing him here in this place that’s so odd but that he makes seem so comfortable, so nice seeing him around the father he clearly adores, and – though this should be less important – he looks so fucking good in those slim-cut robes, that Albus can’t resist pulling him in for another kiss, a little deeper and hungrier than before.  </p><p>They somehow miss the whoosh of green flames in the fireplace, and it takes them a split-second too long to realise they have company.</p><p>A formidable looking witch looms over them, clearing her throat loudly. She looks devastatingly elegant in sleek robes of duck egg blue, her white hair arranged in a complicated knot at the base of her neck. </p><p>‘Grandmother!’ Scorpius squawks, almost falling off the couch in his haste to disentangle himself from Albus. ‘I – we – hello! You look well. How are you? I thought you were at Lake Como for the rest of the month. I –’</p><p>‘Are you going to introduce us, darling?’ Narcissa Malfoy says crisply.</p><p>‘I – yes – er –‘</p><p>‘Albus Potter,’ Albus offers, arranging his face into what he hopes is a winning – and thoroughly innocent – smile. ‘Lovely to meet you, Mrs Malfoy.’</p><p>‘Ah, the famous Mr Potter.’</p><p>Albus almost says <em>no, that’s my father,</em> but this doesn’t feel like the moment for a joke.</p><p>‘Scorpius has told us all about you,’ Narcissa continues. </p><p>Her eyes rake him up and down and he feels deeply self-conscious. He tries to stand a little taller and pulls in his stomach and hopes that his hair isn’t too messed up from where Scorpius’s hands were running through it moments ago.</p><p>‘Oh?’ he says. ‘That’s – er – that’s nice of him –’</p><p>She turns her piercing gaze to Scorpius, staring meaningfully at his hair. Her lips purse. ‘How very <em>modern,</em> darling.’ </p><p>‘Thank you,’ he says, apparently choosing to take it as a compliment. </p><p>‘You look like a water nymph.’</p><p>‘Er – right. Are you joining us for dinner?’ </p><p> </p><p>Dinner is fillets of beef with mountains of roast potatoes and Yorkshire puddings, carrots and broccoli and turnip and peas. It’s all drowning in a truly delicious gravy, which Albus appreciates as much as the next Yorkshireman (adopted Yorkshireman, at least). There’s Eton mess for afterwards, rich cream and tart raspberries and fluffy meringue. </p><p>It’s surprisingly normal and comfortable, not unlike going for Sunday dinner at his grandma’s, though with undeniably better wine. </p><p>Dinner is also served with a side of increasingly intense questions from Narcissa, all fired squarely in Albus’s direction. </p><p>‘So, Albus. What do you do for work?’</p><p>He swallows a mouthful of roast potato. ‘Department of Magical Transportation. Floo network regulation.’</p><p>‘That must be a lot of responsibility.’ Narcissa takes a haughty sip of wine.</p><p>‘Um, it can be –’</p><p>‘It pays well?’ </p><p>‘Grandmother,’ Scorpius protests.</p><p>Draco is attempting to hide behind his goblet, as though he knows exactly where his mother is going but also knows he is powerless to stop her.</p><p>‘Oh, he doesn’t mind, do you, Albus?’</p><p>‘Not at all,’ Albus says, most untruthfully. ‘The pay is fine.’</p><p>‘Your parents work at the Ministry too?’</p><p>‘My dad’s Head of the Auror Office,’ he says, as though everyone present doesn’t know that already, ‘and Mum works for the Prophet – sports correspondent –’ </p><p>‘The Ministry <em>and</em> the Prophet? Very impressive,’ Narcissa continues without shame, her eyes positively gleaming. ‘You’ll be well placed to help Scorpius find a job when it’s finally time for him to get one.’ </p><p>‘Inappropriate. So inappropriate,’ Scorpius tries feebly.</p><p>Albus doesn’t point out that Scorpius already has a job. He’s got his studies, and he works shifts in a café, and Narcissa clearly doesn’t believe this qualifies. ‘If that’s what he wants,’ he says neutrally, because now doesn’t seem like the time for a conversation about nepotism.</p><p>‘I’m just looking to the future, dear,’ Narcissa says breezily to Scorpius, who has slumped down in his chair. ‘Speaking of the future, I know that your lifestyle is more – alternative – than expected, but do you think that children –’</p><p>‘<em>Mother,’</em> Draco says firmly, as Scorpius groans, covering his face with his hands. Albus plasters a polite smile on his face, wishing the expensive carpet would open up and reveal a deep hole in the ground he could casually dive into.</p><p> </p><p>After cups of tea and coffee and after-dinner mints, and after Draco has just-about-successfully restrained Narcissa from probing Albus about his views on everything from marriage to religion to the Minister's new policy on Muggle relations, Scorpius decides it's time to escape. </p><p>He hugs his father and his grandmother, and Narcissa chides him for his hair one last time and then presents a cheek for Albus to kiss, which he dares to think might be a sign of approval. </p><p>‘We’ll check on the peacocks before we go,’ Scorpius says, as though this is a perfectly normal thing to do. </p><p>‘Thanks so much for dinner,’ Albus says, his politeness protocol kicking in. ‘It was lovely to meet you.’</p><p>‘Say hello to your father for me, won’t you,’ Draco says affably, and Albus almost chokes at the thought of how weird <em>that</em> conversation is going to be.</p><p>After all the strangeness of Malfoy Manor, the grand white peacocks in the garden seem almost ordinary, as if everyone Albus has ever dated has had a flock (a herd? a gaggle? a murder?) of peacocks in their back yard. The birds strut around as though they own the place; one bird in particular seems to be channelling the energy of Narcissa Malfoy herself. </p><p>‘I know it might not seem like it,’ Scorpius says, pouring some birdfeed into Albus’s palm, ‘but you did really well with Grandmother.’</p><p>‘Yeah? I feel like she just stopped short of asking me my favourite sexual position.’</p><p>‘You survived the interrogation and remained polite throughout, which is what counts. And, while you’re <em>not</em> a nice pureblood girl of impressive talents and useful connections and impeccable lineage, you’re as close as I’m likely to get, under the circumstances.’ Scorpius smirks. ‘So that wins you a lot of points with her.’ </p><p>‘Thanks? I think?’   </p><p>Scorpius tosses the birdfeed out onto the grass, and Albus follows suit. The peacocks look rather less dignified as they squawk and scrabble for the food in a flurry of white feathers. </p><p>Looking at the peacocks rather than at Albus, Scorpius says, ‘There’s something else I’d like to do before we leave. If you don’t mind. It’s a bit … weird.’</p><p>Usually, Albus would raise an eyebrow and employ some of his sharpest sarcasm in response. But Scorpius is still staring at the peacocks pecking the feed from the grass, his gaze somewhere faraway, so Albus touches a hand to the small of his back and says softly, ‘Okay.’</p><p> </p><p>The Malfoys have a family graveyard on their property, which in theory is just about the most macabre thing Albus can imagine, but in reality it’s quite lovely, a peaceful space set aside in the north of the grounds. </p><p>In an action that looks habitual, Scorpius crouches down before the grave and rearranges the flowers unnecessarily. </p><p>Albus isn’t sure what he should do, what Scorpius wants them to do here. He never talks about his mother. Albus doesn’t know how often he comes here, whether he brings gifts, whether he talks to her, whether that’s what he wants Albus to do now. </p><p>He waits for Scorpius to finish tidying the flowers, and when he straightens up, Albus takes his hand and squeezes it.</p><p>‘It’s beautiful here,’ he says. </p><p>Scorpius smiles. He doesn’t say anything, so Albus doesn’t either. A gentle breeze ruffles Scorpius’s hair, and a hopeful sun brings some light to the cool spring day, and Albus feels warm in the knowledge that Scorpius wanted to bring him here, wanted to share this with him.</p><p>*</p><p>‘So when do I get to meet your family? Grace the hallowed halls of chez Potter?’</p><p>Back at Albus’s house in York, Albus makes short work of Scorpius’s robes. He slips them off his shoulders and reaches for the t-shirt underneath, slipping it up his flat stomach, over his broad chest, and Scorpius lifts his arms, allowing Albus to pull it off over his head.</p><p>It’s moments like this when Albus nearly forgets to breathe, sometimes, at just how <em>absolutely gorgeous</em> Scorpius is – at the fact that he, Al Potter, gets to look at sights like this and touch abs like that and have Scorpius beam at him like he’s something special, like he’s doing Scorpius a favour. </p><p>‘You really want to?’ he says, words heavy with scepticism, while Scorpius’s long, slim fingers work through his shirt buttons. ‘There are so many of them. And they are a <em>lot.</em> At least half of them will make it their mission to verbally eviscerate you. Another third will do it without realising. A lot of them will judge you for being a Ravenclaw – we don’t have many of those, surprisingly –’</p><p>‘I kept trying to reassure you that my family would like you. Can’t you at least pretend to do the same?’</p><p>‘Honesty is the best policy, I find. Maybe they <em>won’t</em> like you and we’ll just have to prepare for the worst. You aren’t that likeable, you know. I barely tolerate you most of the time.’</p><p>Scorpius’s grey eyes meet his, eyebrows raised, and Albus supposes he might be slightly more than tolerable, just at this moment. His hands skim the curve of Albus’s belly where it pushes over his jeans, where it’s widest and softest. His touch is feather-light, as though – contrary to the glut of heavy, solid evidence at his fingertips – Albus is something delicate and breakable, something precious. </p><p>‘Such a little shit,’ Scorpius tells him.</p><p>Albus glances down at himself and raises an eyebrow. ‘We can both agree I’m not that little.’</p><p>Scorpius shoots him a look that’s somehow fond and withering at the same time. ‘Al. That was awful. Barely even qualifies as a joke. A proper waste of air. I am <em>embarrassed</em> for you –’</p><p>Albus shuts him up with a kiss.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I planned to write a short, fluffy one-shot about these two, and it morphed into a slightly longer fluffy thing with added ~feelings~ so here we are.</p>
<p>To complement this chapter of Albus being smitten with Scorpius and afraid of his family, there’ll be one more chapter from Scorpius’s POV where we’ll see him, er, being smitten with Albus and afraid of his family.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Potters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a head's up, there’s a bit of fat-shaming in here, because I always imagine James Potter II as being kind of a dick, so he’s the pantomime villain of this chapter. But there's also plenty of Albus and Scorpius being ridiculously in love, so hopefully it balances out.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘Scorpius?’</p>
<p>‘Mm?’</p>
<p>Scorpius is lying on Albus’s bed, surrounded by loose scrolls of parchment. Most of them are either scrunched up into balls or have thick lines of ink slashed across them. </p>
<p>It’s fair to say the last few days of work on his thesis have not been his most successful.</p>
<p>‘Do you think I’ve – you know – put on a few?’</p>
<p>Scorpius glances up at Albus. He’s standing by the bed in just his pyjama trousers, shirtless – which in itself is noteworthy. He’s not in the habit of standing around unclothed, although it’s a habit Scorpius is keen to encourage. Hell, Scorpius wanders around Albus’s house in various stages of undress all the time, and he doesn’t even live there. </p>
<p>(He draws the line at walking naked around his own apartment, in deference to the ancient code of being a good flatmate. Unfortunately, Grace and Zabini seem less well-versed in this code.)</p>
<p>He considers the question. Albus is chubby and he looks it. But that wasn’t what he asked. He’s perfectly aware of that already. Scorpius sits up on the bed and looks his boyfriend up and down. </p>
<p>Apparently, this is a mistake.</p>
<p>‘You’re just meant to say no,’ Albus complains. ‘It’s not a real question.’</p>
<p>‘Then why bother asking?’</p>
<p>‘It’s just a thing people do, isn’t it.’</p>
<p>‘Is it?’ he asks innocently.</p>
<p>Scorpius attempts to get a closer look, scooting over to the edge of the bed and pulling Albus to stand between his legs. </p>
<p>Given how much he worries about it, Albus’s weight hasn’t changed that much in the six months they’ve been together. It’s fluctuated a bit, as everyone’s does, creeping up and dropping down again every so often. </p>
<p>Right now, he’s probably on the heavier end of things, a bit bigger than he was a few months ago, than when they first got together. It’s probably not noticeable to most people, though. Scorpius has noticed, because – well, he has an eye for that sort of thing. And an eye for Albus in particular. But he’s not surprised that Al hasn’t cottoned on until now.</p>
<p>‘How are we defining “a few”?’ Scorpius asks.</p>
<p>Albus groans and makes to step away, but he doesn’t protest when Scorpius tightens the hold on his hips, keeping him in place. ‘Again, Scorpius, the correct answer is <em>no</em>.’</p>
<p>‘I think the accurate answer is <em>probably</em>.’ He gives Albus’s sides an affectionate rub. </p>
<p>He isn’t going to lie about it – even if it is ‘just a thing that people do’, he doesn’t see why he should participate in that sort of societal weirdness. He also knows that Albus knows he wouldn’t lie about it, so Al wouldn’t have brought it up at all if he didn’t want an honest answer.</p>
<p>‘You’ve never heard of tact, have you,’ Albus grumbles, though the corners of his mouth are twitching.</p>
<p>His green eyes meet Scorpius’s, his right eyebrow cocks skyward, and Scorpius grins up at him. From this angle, looking down, the soft pudge at his jaw folds into a double chin, which Scorpius knows he hates. Scorpius has rather more positive feelings towards it. Likes to kiss him there, move slowly along his jaw and under his chin and nip at the softness with his teeth. </p>
<p>‘It’s not a lot,’ Scorpius continues, ‘but, yeah, it’s probably a bit.’ He gives his bum a pinch through his trousers; Albus squirms and tries to continue looking exasperated, with limited success. ‘You look great.’</p>
<p>He does. He’s gorgeous. But Scorpius could throw a hundred compliments at him and he’d deftly dodge every one of them, so he bites his tongue.</p>
<p>Albus sighs theatrically before stepping away, as though he deeply regrets the entire interaction. But Scorpius gets the impression that he did say the right thing, that Albus heard what he expected to hear, and what he wanted to hear. </p>
<p>‘Why do I even talk to you.’</p>
<p>‘You love me really.’</p>
<p>‘I do, in fact, love you.’ Albus sounds resigned. ‘More’s the pity.’</p>
<p>Scorpius grins, flopping back down on the bed.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>‘God, these are good.’ Molly practically moans over the mound of pancakes, bacon and syrup before her. ‘Almost worth coming to London for.’</p>
<p>‘Told you.’ Albus is halfway through his own full English. There’s black pudding, and the hash browns are crispy, and there aren’t too many mushrooms. This, Scorpius knows, ticks several of his this-qualifies-as-a-good-full-English boxes. Albus has a variety of strong opinions about breakfast foods. </p>
<p>The food at Griffin’s Roost is pretty damned good, if Scorpius does say so himself. Albus and Molly clearly approve, and they deign to pay a trip down south every few weeks to patronise the little café where he works. It’s a nice enough place, and his boss Marya is lovely, but on days like this when all he wants to do is write, when his head is swimming with thoughts about twelfth-century wandmakers that are begging to be put down on parchment, it’s difficult to give two shits about what the soup of the day is or whether someone’s latte was exactly to their liking.</p>
<p>He hears Molly and Albus pointedly talking about him as he approaches their table, two mugs and a teapot floating in the air before him.</p>
<p>‘Shame about the service, obviously,’ Al says.</p>
<p>‘You just can’t get the staff these days,’ Molly agrees.</p>
<p>‘I’ll ask to speak to the manager,’ Albus declares.</p>
<p>‘Right, at some point another customer is actually going to hear you,’ Scorpius says, reaching the table, his fingers brushing Albus’s shoulder. </p>
<p>He looks up, green eyes bright behind his glasses, and smirks at Scorpius. ‘Can I get a feedback form, at least? Do you have a suggestion box?’</p>
<p>‘No. But I do have free drinks.' A black coffee settles itself on the table in front of Molly, and an empty mug and teapot land in front of Albus.</p>
<p>‘Hmm.’ Albus considers. He lifts the lid and the scent of peppermint wafts up to greet him. ‘It’ll do.’</p>
<p>Scorpius whacks him playfully on the shoulder. He brings Albus an unasked-for drink every time, and every time Albus pays for it (‘<em>Harry Potter’s son scams local retailer</em> really isn’t a headline I want to read’). </p>
<p>‘We have a problem,’ Albus tells him as he drains the remainder of his previous cup of tea (Darjeeling, his third favourite). ‘I mean. Not a <em>problem</em>. Wrong word to use. Just a situation that I should warn you about. Small thing, really.’</p>
<p>‘Is this about the tea?’</p>
<p>‘Tonight. At my parents’. It turns out James is going to be there.’ Albus says it far too breezily.</p>
<p>Scorpius has met Al’s parents twice before, and his sister once, but so far his older brother has eluded him. He suspects this may be intentional on Albus’s part. But any meeting of Albus’s family involves Scorpius talking to Harry and Ginny Potter as though that’s a totally normal, everyday thing to do, so adding in a reputedly unpleasant brother can’t increase his nerves that much more, really.</p>
<p>He knows Albus was nervous as hell the first time he met Scorpius’s family a couple of months back. But really, meeting his father and his grandmother was nothing compared to the utter star-struck speechlessness Scorpius had endured the first time he met <em>celebrated Quidditch player</em> Ginny Weasley and <em>saviour of the wizarding world</em> Harry Potter.</p>
<p>It’s becoming marginally easier to think of them as just Albus’s mum and dad. Marginally. </p>
<p>But it’s still pretty fucking wild that these are the sorts of people he sits down to dinner with these days.</p>
<p>‘You haven’t met James yet?’ Molly makes a noise like a cat wheezing. ‘You’re in for a treat.’</p>
<p>‘Don’t listen to her,’ Albus says. ‘He’s just. Um. He can be –'</p>
<p>‘A complete and utter twat,’ Molly supplies.</p>
<p>‘He’s an acquired taste.’</p>
<p>‘He’s a prick,’ Molly says. ‘And he’s had a bad year, so we’re all expected to be nice to him.’</p>
<p>Scorpius has heard some about James Potter’s <em>bad year</em> from Albus. He’s also seen quite a lot about it in the gossip columns and heard customers chatting about it at work. James had a disastrous first season as the Chudley Cannons’ much-hyped new Chaser, and his contract hadn’t been renewed, and there were endless unflattering comparisons of his short-lived stint in professional Quidditch with his mother’s lengthy, lauded career. </p>
<p>‘But that doesn’t stop him being a prick,’ Molly finishes.</p>
<p>She looks at Scorpius as though daring him to disagree. He’s slightly afraid of Molly, which Albus has assured him is perfectly normal. He always makes a point of serving her the biggest slice of cake or the freshest bread or adding a few extra olives to her salad, as appropriate, which he hopes has gone some way to raising him in her esteem. He hopes, at the very least, that she doesn’t talk about him in the sort of tone that she is currently employing for James Potter.</p>
<p>‘Well, I look forward to it,’ Scorpius says, with a confidence he doesn’t really feel. </p>
<p>Molly’s expression is pitying. ‘Look after him,’ she tells Albus seriously.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>The Potters’ house isn’t as grand as you might expect for the home of two of the most famous people in wizarding Britain. It’s not huge or flashy, and nothing in it screams excessive wealth. But it’s certainly nice, probably the sort of place that Scorpius would like to aspire to live in, give it ten years, once he’s got a proper job and a couple of kids and a dog and he can consider himself settled down. </p>
<p>‘So, Scorpius, how is your thesis coming along?’ Harry asks politely, while Albus is distracted by Algernon, the Potters’ grumpy black-and-white cat.</p>
<p>People often ask him this, in lieu of asking him about a career he doesn’t really have, even though their eyes reliably glaze over if he actually tries to talk about wandlore. But from Harry Potter, it’s just about the most stressful question he could be asked. (Aside from, perhaps, <em>how often are you fucking my son?</em> or <em>how do you feel about skull-and-snake tattoos?)</em></p>
<p>But this man is literally a former owner of the Elder Wand, and he clearly isn’t bothered by how iconic that makes him. </p>
<p>‘Fine,’ Scorpius squeaks, running a hand through his hair – back to his customary white-blond, after a fun few months of blue – in a gesture that even he recognises is practically a nervous tic.</p>
<p>He manages to say something generic about spending a lot of time in the library and alluding to a few ancient scrolls he’s struggling to get his hands on. Harry nods sagely as if he appreciates the struggles faced by academics in the current research climate. Scorpius counts it as a successful interaction.</p>
<p>When Algernon the cat successfully escapes Albus’s attempt at affection, Al sits down next to Scorpius, placing a careful distance between them. Harry launches into a story that has something to do with Uncle Ron and a crup puppy and enchanted hydrangeas, and Scorpius does his best to keep up.    </p>
<p>He likes Albus’s family, but he’s aware he doesn’t always get their sense of humour, and their conversations are often several layers of in-jokes all piled on top of one another, to the point where it becomes utterly incomprehensible to an outsider. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Over the course of the evening, something else quickly becomes incomprehensible to Scorpius – why anyone would endure the presence of James Potter for more than five minutes unless they were legally mandated to.</p>
<p>If anything, Albus and Molly’s warnings undersold what an absolute tosser he is.</p>
<p>He shows up late, once they’ve already waited forty minutes and eventually started dinner without him. He arrives by broomstick, which seems unnecessarily flashy and mostly like an excuse to show off the fact that he owns the latest Nimbus. He then spends a sickening amount of time boasting about ‘how beautifully she handles’. </p>
<p>He gives Scorpius a lazy once-over with his eyes when Albus introduces them, and Scorpius gets the impression he’s being mentally undressed. </p>
<p>‘Good to finally meet you,’ he drawls. ‘Everyone’s been saying that Al got himself a hot boyfriend, so I had to see the proof for myself.’</p>
<p>Scorpius isn’t sure how to respond to that. He dislikes pretty much everything from James’s tone to his expression to the obnoxious dragon-hide boots he’s wearing. </p>
<p>‘Bit out of your league, isn’t he?’ James continues, raising his eyebrows at Albus. </p>
<p>Albus grins at Scorpius as though this is a perfectly acceptable thing for James to have said. ‘I got lucky.’</p>
<p>As an only child, Scorpius is aware he isn’t best placed to understand sibling banter. But he is well placed to understand Albus, and he’s pretty sure Al wouldn’t stand for anyone else talking to him like this. The way James says it doesn’t sound enough like a joke. And if it is a joke, there’s nothing very funny about it.</p>
<p>‘Pretty sure I’m the lucky one,’ Scorpius manages to say.</p>
<p>‘<em>Nauseating</em>,’ James declares, and snatches a chip off Albus’s plate. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Over dinner, they discuss James’s weekend plans (a trip with ‘the boys’ to Prague) and his plans for the weekend after (a trip with ‘Alexandria’ to Santorini). They manage to squeeze in a brief discussion of Albus’s cousin Dominique – all of them are attending her baby shower in a couple of weeks’ time – before they’re back onto James and his social life. Which is nowhere near as scintillating a topic as James apparently thinks it is.</p>
<p>After everyone’s steak, chips and peas have been consumed and cleared away, Harry brings out the treacle tart and ice cream. </p>
<p>When it’s Albus’s turn to help himself to a piece of tart, James says with contempt, ‘Are you really having that?’ </p>
<p>Albus ignores him and adds a scoop of ice cream to his bowl.</p>
<p>James then turns to Scorpius and says, ‘Shouldn’t you be trying to stop him?’ </p>
<p>Scorpius blinks.</p>
<p>Albus rolls his eyes dramatically. He also places a hand on Scorpius’s leg under the table, as if he’s well aware that his boyfriend wants to rip his brother’s head off. ‘Shut the fuck up, James,’ he says amiably. </p>
<p>‘Language,’ Ginny admonishes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When they’ve all eaten their fill of dessert – Scorpius and James both had seconds – Ginny instructs Albus to help her with the washing up, so he dutifully charms the plates to fly themselves into the kitchen and follows his mother.</p>
<p>This leaves Scorpius in the stressful position of trying to make conversation with Harry and James, but thankfully they start discussing Puddlemere’s last match against the Tornados, and Scorpius manages to contribute enough sport-related comments to show them that he’s trying.</p>
<p>It also leaves him in a position where he can just about make out what Ginny and Albus are saying in the next room. The door is ajar, and Ginny’s voice carries, or perhaps she isn’t making any effort to lower it.</p>
<p>‘… you would tell us, love, wouldn’t you, if something was wrong? If you’re stressed about work, or money, or if you’re depressed –’</p>
<p>‘I’m fine, Mum.’</p>
<p>‘You’ve said that before.’</p>
<p>‘Well, it was true before, and it’s true now.’</p>
<p>‘All right.’ There’s a pause, then Ginny says, ‘If there’s nothing wrong, love, then I don’t see what’s stopping you from making progress. Are you making any effort to lose the weight?’</p>
<p>Albus sounds a little strained. ‘Mum, can we talk about this later?’</p>
<p>‘If you want any help, you know you can always ask me or your dad. Or James is good with this sort of thing, of course. Or I’m sure Scorpius would be happy to –’</p>
<p>Scorpius can’t make out Al’s response. He focuses on the flowered tablecloth before him, the room suddenly feeling uncomfortably warm. </p>
<p>He’s not pleased by anything about this conversation, but he’s even less pleased about Ginny dragging his own name into it. As if she assumes that he must view Albus in the same way that she clearly does – that there’s something wrong with him, something that needs to be fixed. Perhaps she thinks that he likes Albus despite his weight and pats himself on the back for being magnanimous enough to put up with it. That he’s secretly hoping Albus will realise that he needs to change, that he isn’t good enough as he is. </p>
<p>‘Don’t you agree, Scorpius?’</p>
<p>Harry’s question drags him back to the conversation in the dining room.</p>
<p>‘Right,’ he manages to say. ‘Tornados don’t stand a chance.’</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Albus seems cheerful enough when they floo back to his house. They flop on Albus’s bed and stick the radio on in the background and disseminate the events of the evening, talking about James’s Nimbus and the delicious treacle tart and Harry’s risible efforts in charades after dinner. Albus doesn’t mention anything that Ginny or James said to him, so Scorpius doesn’t really feel like he can bring it up.</p>
<p>But Scorpius has never been great at disguising his feelings, and Albus shoots him a couple of uncertain looks over the course of the night before eventually asking, ‘Everything okay?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?’</p>
<p>‘Did something happen, at my parents’? Oh god, did James make jokes about the war? My dad would <em>kill</em> him if he –’</p>
<p>‘No. God, definitely not. He was fine. They all were. Your family are always really nice to me.’</p>
<p>Albus waits. Clearly he knows there’s a <em>but</em> attached to the end of that sentence.</p>
<p>Scorpius shouldn’t bring it up. If Al wants to talk about it with him then he will. </p>
<p>But he’s met the Potters on three separate occasions now, and someone has brought up Albus’s weight every single time, whether his brother or his sister or his parents. Not usually with the same relish that James did today, and the lecture from Ginny is new, too, but still. There’s always been some sort of throwaway comment or a joke that Scorpius made a point of not laughing at, even if Al forced out a chuckle. </p>
<p>And if they talk to him like this when Scorpius, a guest, is present, what are they like when he’s not there?</p>
<p>What if Al thinks it’s okay for them to talk to him like this, thinks it’s normal? Maybe it is normal. Scorpius is hardly an expert on family dynamics. But his father has never spoken to him like that. Even his grandmother, who considers herself too old not to say exactly what she’s thinking at any given time, wouldn’t make a habit of joking about his insecurities. </p>
<p>Scorpius blurts out, ‘They’re not always nice to you.’</p>
<p>Albus waves a hand. ‘Look, I know James is a dick, but that’s just a given at this point. He is to everyone, to varying degrees. No one takes it personally.’</p>
<p>‘Not just him. They all give you a pretty hard time, Al.’</p>
<p>‘What? Oh.’ It seems to hit him where Scorpius is going with this. ‘About my weight, you mean.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah.’</p>
<p>Albus shrugs. ‘That’s just to be expected.’</p>
<p>‘Is it?’ Scorpius is incredulous.</p>
<p>‘They’re family,’ he says, as though this explains everything.</p>
<p>‘Okay,’ Scorpius says, in a way that means <em>so what?</em></p>
<p>‘Scorpius, I know you’re a big fan of all this –’ Al gestures vaguely to himself ‘– but that’s not exactly a popular view.’</p>
<p>Scorpius’s heart breaks a little bit.</p>
<p>‘It’s not a big deal. They’re family,’ he says again. ‘They mean well.’</p>
<p><em>That still doesn’t give them the right,</em> Scorpius wants to say. <em>They don’t get to put you down like that, talk shit about you, make you feel like you aren’t enough.</em> </p>
<p>Scorpius knows that Albus is insecure, sometimes, about getting as big as he has. He gets embarrassed when clothes that he expects to fit no longer do, or when he gets tired in bed more easily than Scorpius does. If Albus wants to lose weight, get in a bit better shape, then that is entirely his call. If he doesn’t, then that’s his call too. </p>
<p>Scorpius isn’t going to try and tell him what’s right for him, what he should do with his body. And no one else should be doing that either, particularly not with advice that’s disguised as jokes or concern that just sounds mocking.</p>
<p>But Albus looks like he’s already moved on from this conversation, so Scorpius drops it.  </p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Scorpius changes his shirt three times and his trousers twice. He wonders if robes would just be less effort and he should nip back to his flat to grab a pair. </p>
<p>It’s possible that he is overthinking.</p>
<p>It’s the day of the latest Weasley family gathering, Dominique’s baby shower, which it turns out is a somewhat grander event than he had been anticipating. He’d been under the impression it was a small family affair, with a few friends and partners thrown in, but apparently there are going to be at least fifty people there, many of them varying levels of famous.  </p>
<p>Scorpius has a grand total of four living family members worth mentioning, and he’s not sure he could name fifty people he actually likes. He also hasn’t met any of Albus’s extended family before.</p>
<p>But he’s definitely not nervous, or anything.  </p>
<p>He takes so long getting ready that Albus eventually comes to find him. He listens patiently to Scorpius’s garbled explanation of why absolutely <em>none</em> of the clothes he owns are suitable, then hands him a pair of navy chinos and a burgundy shirt and tells him he’ll look fantastic. </p>
<p>Molly is waiting for them downstairs, looking effortlessly glamorous in a champagne jumpsuit and red pumps, her nose buried in a book called <em>Normal People</em>. ‘Ready?’ she says without enthusiasm.</p>
<p>‘Molly,’ Albus says. ‘We’ve talked about this. This is a <em>happy occasion</em>, remember? Dominique is excited about having a baby, and we might not understand it, but we’re not going to be miserable about it.’</p>
<p>‘I have no intention of being <em>miserable</em>,’ Molly says loftily. ‘I also have no intention of acting like reproducing is some colossal accomplishment. Particularly not in our family. The last thing the world needs is more Weasleys.’</p>
<p>‘<em>Molly</em>.’</p>
<p>‘Yes, yes, I’ll be nice to Dom and her unborn sprog.’ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Albus has joked, more than once, about giving Scorpius revision notes on his family tree. In the beautiful garden of Dominique's parents' cottage, surrounded by what appears to be every Weasley in existence, Scorpius can’t help but think that might've been a good idea. </p>
<p>Albus and Molly keep pointing notable people out to him – ‘Uncle Charlie’s a cool guy, has all the best stories’ – ‘that’s my dad, with the horn-rimmed glasses and pinched expression’ – ‘shit, let’s avoid Roxanne, I’m not buying any more of her handmade soaps’ – and Scorpius tries to pretend he’s keeping up. He smiles brightly when he’s introduced to someone new, and laughs in all the right places, and immediately forgets everyone’s name.  </p>
<p>The mother-to-be flits around the place like a blonde and charming butterfly, easing between English and French depending on the branch of the family she’s speaking to. Molly, on her best behaviour at Albus’s instruction, congratulates Dominique and compliments her dress and gushes about how she is simply <em>glowing</em>. Scorpius is mildly disconcerted by how convincing her performance is.</p>
<p>‘She’s younger than us, you know,’ Albus informs him once Dominique has departed in a flurry of air-kisses to greet more of her guests.</p>
<p>‘Oh. God, that’s…’</p>
<p>‘Horrifying. Yes.’</p>
<p>‘We’re old, aren’t we?’</p>
<p>‘I <em>know</em>.’</p>
<p>Most of the day is somewhat overwhelming, but plenty of it is nice, too. Scorpius reminisces with Fred, the only other Ravenclaw present and a couple of years his senior, who rescued him more than once when he was stumped by the riddle outside their common room. He talks to Ron, who chats jovially about Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and tells him he qualifies for the special family rate (ten percent added on). Molly introduces him to her mum, Audrey, who is cheerful but wry and who he suspects could destroy you with one twitch of an eyebrow if she were so inclined. He finds that she reminds him of his own mother, a little, and he carefully subdues the writhing in his stomach.  </p>
<p>Albus looks pleased to be here, despite his performative grumbling with Molly, happy to be surrounded by his eclectic, exasperating tribe of a family. He checks in every now and again with Scorpius to make sure he's doing okay, sometimes with words, sometimes with a soft look or a quizzical eyebrow, a light touch on the small of his back just as a reminder that he’s there. </p>
<p>He also looks cute as anything, smart-casual in jeans and a short-sleeved blue shirt and a pair of Oxfords that Scorpius makes a mental note to try and steal from him. His black hair is, as usual, slightly too messy to be intentional; his round cheeks are dusted with freckles, which have charmingly made an appearance over the past few weeks as the days grew sunnier. </p>
<p>Scorpius knows they don’t look much alike. He also knows that this bothers Albus sometimes, in ways that Scorpius will probably never understand. But they look good together, he thinks, like they go together. Like they make sense.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sensible people that they are, they do their best to avoid James, who is holding court with a handful of cousins across the garden. Unfortunately, he pounces on them when they make the mistake of venturing into the cottage to refill their drinks.</p>
<p>‘Bitchy, beefy, blondie,’ he greets them. </p>
<p>‘Do you write your own material, James?’ Molly deadpans. ‘You’re a riot.’ </p>
<p>‘Have you seen Dom?’ Albus asks, determinedly conversational. ‘Haven’t spoken to her for ages. It was nice to catch up.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah. Even more mini Weasleys running around the place. Fucking fantastic. You can’t be far behind her,’ James says, looking deeply impressed by his own wit, reaching out and patting Albus on the stomach. ‘When’s yours due?’ </p>
<p>Scorpius wants to punch the smug grin off his face. Not that he’s ever punched anyone before, and it’s probably more difficult than it looks. But there’s a first time for everything.</p>
<p>‘James, that’s a <em>secret,’</em> Albus says, mock-scandalised. ‘I haven’t broken the news to Scorpius yet.’</p>
<p>Molly guffaws loyally, and Scorpius laughs too, because if that’s how Albus wants to handle this, then that’s his call. </p>
<p>‘You’re not the father,’ Albus says very seriously to Scorpius.</p>
<p>‘Thank god.’ Scorpius makes a show of wiping his brow. ‘Not ready for that kind of responsibility.’ </p>
<p>James glowers at them, his joke clearly not panning out the way he’d intended. </p>
<p>‘Kindly fuck off, James,’ Molly says, and launches into a monologue about developments in wizard-Muggle relations since 1998, which Scorpius and Albus show a loud, enthusiastic interest in, and which succeeds in scaring James away almost immediately.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Albus is a little quieter after their moment with James. Scorpius is slightly stumped by this. When he’d tried bringing the topic up with Albus before, Al had made a point of saying that he wasn’t bothered by jokes like this from his family, no matter how out of order Scorpius felt they were. </p>
<p>Scorpius catches his eye, and he says, ‘I’ll just be a minute,’ sounding oddly determined. Scorpius falls back into conversation with Molly and her sister, watching as Albus walks over to the drinks table where Ginny is standing alone, topping up her glass of pumpkin juice.</p>
<p>When Albus returns, he pulls Scorpius to one side, looking a little awkward, and maybe a little pleased with himself.</p>
<p>‘Just had a chat with my mum,’ he says. ‘Earlier, she – well, she made a comment that I wasn’t thrilled about. She was trying to nag me about, you know, dieting. Again.’</p>
<p>Scorpius keeps his expression carefully neutral. </p>
<p>‘And I thought about what you said the other week. So I tried to be a bit clearer with her.’</p>
<p>Scorpius smiles. ‘Yeah?’</p>
<p>‘I said that I’m happy and I’m okay and that it’s my business, not hers. And that it’s unfair of her to bring it up at a family event like this – or when she invites us round for dinner – as though it’s the only thing worth talking to me about. I’m sure she hasn’t changed her mind, but I think she sees my point of view now. She even <em>apologised</em>.’ </p>
<p>Scorpius glances across the garden to where Ginny is standing with Harry and Ron. He realises she’s looking at him and Albus, and they make eye contact for a brief moment. She smiles at him, and he smiles back.</p>
<p>‘That’s great, Al.’ He threads their fingers together, and Albus grins. ‘Really great.’</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Scorpius flops onto the couch in Albus’s living room. He shouldn’t even be here, really – he’d sworn to himself that he’d head straight back to his flat after they’d left Dominique’s, get a few hours of work done on the essay he keeps pushing down his list of priorities. But that's a much less enticing prospect than staying here with Albus.</p>
<p>He pats his knees, holds out his arms and looks up at Albus expectantly.</p>
<p>Albus narrows his eyes, accusing. ‘We’ve been through this.’ </p>
<p>They have, but Scorpius is an optimist. And very persistent. </p>
<p>‘Humour me,’ he says.</p>
<p>Albus looks suspicious and more than a little sceptical, but he isn’t dismissing the idea immediately the way he usually does. He hovers there for a moment, and then, to Scorpius’s great delight, Albus sits gingerly on his lap. He looks like he’s trying very hard to look casual about it. </p>
<p>Scorpius knows he’s trying to avoid balancing all of his weight on him. ‘Relax, Al,’ he murmurs, resting his hands on Albus’s thighs to steady him. The pressure on his legs increases by a fraction. </p>
<p>Scorpius is aware that he doesn’t understand Albus’s insecurities about his body, not properly. He doesn’t have many insecurities about his own – not because he thinks it’s amazing, or anything, more just that he’s pretty indifferent to it. It works pretty well, it does what he needs it to, and he’s grateful for that. But otherwise he doesn’t spend much time thinking about it. It’s just sort of <em>there</em>.</p>
<p>So he can’t relate to how stressed Albus gets about his body sometimes. Also, in his humble opinion, Albus looks incredible, so the idea that Albus doesn’t like himself is frankly mind-boggling. And more than a little heart-breaking.  </p>
<p>He tries to imagine what Albus is feeling, what weird, dark mental paths his brain tries to take him down. He thinks he’s too big for this, too heavy. He’s worried he takes up too much space on Scorpius’s lap. As if any of those things – even if they were true – would be a problem. As if they were things he <em>should</em> dislike himself for. </p>
<p>He is heavy, but not too heavy. He does take up a lot of space, but there’s no question of him not fitting. His stomach pushes into Scorpius’s and he’s warm and soft and so fucking sexy. </p>
<p>Scorpius says, ‘Today was nice.’ </p>
<p>‘Yeah?’ Albus looks pleased. ‘You weren’t too terrified?’</p>
<p>‘Al, your family are objectively terrifying.’ He starts to undo the buttons of Albus’s shirt, sneaks his hands up underneath it. </p>
<p>‘Scorpius,’ Albus says sternly.</p>
<p>He runs his thumb along one of the stretchmarks on Albus’s hip that he knows he’s self-conscious about, feeling the soft groove of the swirling, silvery line.</p>
<p>‘You look so good,’ he tells him. He gives Albus’s soft hips a gentle squeeze.</p>
<p>‘<em>Scorpius</em>. You’re meant to be going home. You have a deadline. You are meant to be working.’</p>
<p>‘I can work here.’ </p>
<p>‘You can,’ Albus agrees, ‘but you probably won’t.’ </p>
<p>‘I <em>will</em>.’ He grins, attempting to look winsome and persuasive. ‘For one thing, there’s plenty of coffee here.’</p>
<p>Scorpius leans in for a kiss, and Albus obliges, his hands going to Scorpius’s hair, sending a shiver down his spine. There’s the warmth of his lips, the slight tease of his tongue, and Scorpius wonders which benevolent deity he sold his soul to in order to find himself here, right now, like this, with everything he's ever wanted. </p>
<p>All too quickly, Albus is getting up, dodging Scorpius’s attempts to pull him back down. </p>
<p>‘Come on, Malfoy. Books, parchment, quill. Get to it.’ He’s already halfway to the kitchen, ignoring Scorpius’s melodramatic sigh of defeat. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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